If you see a girl driving around crying, it’s probably me.

Well, if you live in Denver, that is. I mean, I’m not driving around DC or anything (as much as I wish I was, sometimes). And I”m mostly ok, but then sometimes a song comes on that punches me right in the figurative balls. Today’s culprit was even more relevant than most, except I kept thinking how creepy it would be if they really sunk her in the river and then someone had to find her later. Ew.

See, the thing is that I’ve managed to stay fairly distracted. A trip to Portland here, a visit from a friend there, and I’ve been able to grieve in smaller moments without losing control. I just went out for the first time since she died on Saturday, and actually had a good time, thanks largely in part to my best friend and excessive shots (horrible idea, but what are Sundays for if not recovery, right?).

But then sometimes I get that ol’ ball punch from a song or the urge to text a private joke or I wear one of her shirts or something, and I feel it in my whole self. My entire body starts straining toward something hopelessly out of reach and I realize I never knew what it felt like to really want something until now. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t give up to have her back, even for just a minute.

My parents went to this group for parents and siblings of dead kids and I know my mom really wants me to go but I can’t. I can’t plan to mourn every Tuesday at 7, and though I’m sure that it’s helpful for them to talk to people who really get it…it’s just not me. And sadly, I’m finding out that I have a lot of people already in my life who really get it, and that sucks, though it IS obscurely comforting to see that it’s possible to get past the worst of it. But can I just say, to the next generation, BE MORE CAREFUL AND STOP DYING BECAUSE THERE ARE ENOUGH NEW ONLY CHILDREN OUT THERE YOU SHITS.

Cough. In conclusion, this sucks. God I’m eloquent.